


Petite Nature

by anemic_cinema



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Foot Jobs, Foot Massage, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:45:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl takes care of Glenn's feet for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petite Nature

Glenn doesn't mean to complain. He does his best to keep a positive attitude no matter what, even when running from dead people. But his feet aren't making it easy.

“I swear to God, they're totally bleeding. I can feel it.”

Daryl looks back at him with a kind of exasperated look and Glenn shuts up. Shane had assigned him bodyguard duty on this supply run. It had gone well. The older man had his back, and didn't insult him or call him anything nasty for once. That 's progress where Daryl is concerned. Now though, he looks slightly annoyed. It's not Glenn's fault that on the way back his feet started to bug him. Considering all the running around he does, it's not surprising they haven't done this before. 

“When we get back to camp I'll show you how to treat 'em.” 

Glenn nods. He sure as hell wasn't expecting that offer of help. Usually Daryl looks like he takes the attitude that his problems are his own, and everyone else's are their own. Once they get to camp and distribute the supplies, Glenn leads him to his tent. There's something oddly intimate about that, but Glenn ignores it. 

“Take yer shoes off.” 

Glenn sits down and kicks them off, and the redneck wrinkles his nose. There is some blood on his socks. Apparently the kid wasn't imagining things. 

“Socks off.”

Glenn obeys. There's a couple of deep splits running up his heels. Drying blood flecks the splits. Daryl begins to rummage around the other man's stuff to find what he needs to treat them. Glenn just sits at the edge of his cot, silently watching the older man. It's too weird for words really. Here's the unofficial-official camp badass being nice to him. The younger man curls and uncurls his toes, trying to relax his feet. Besides the splits, they're just plain sore from the running around. 

When Daryl kneels in front of him he has a jug of water, antiseptic cream, some bandages, a towel, and one of the few clean pairs of socks Glenn has in the world. 

“Alright, gimme yer right foot.” 

Glenn wasn't sure what he was expecting. Daryl washing his feet was probably not high on the list. But it's happening, The redneck is pouring water over his feet and wiping them dry with the towel. His fingers feel good. It's the most contact Glenn has had in a long time, and the shiver that runs up his back when the older man's fingers brush against the sole of his foot is pleasurable. He spreads the ointment on the splits, actually taking the time to rub it in. Glenn has to resist the urge to sigh with satisfaction. 

Daryl bandages up the splits, and then does the same for his left foot. Glenn is soothed just as much by the older man's touch as he is by the water and the neosporin and the bandages. It's like Daryl cares. 

The older man grabs for the clean socks, but pauses. 

“D'you need that taken care of too?” Nodding down towards Glenn's lap.

The comfort turns into humiliation and terror, and Glenn covers himself with his hands. “Dammit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” 

Daryl quiets him with a wave of his hand. “It's ok.”

“Really?” Glenn can't imagine how it would be. Then again, he couldn't imagine having this man in his tent cleaning his feet.

“Yeah.” Daryl shrugs. He's good at expressing himself with all manners of shrugs. “It happens.”

He's still seated between Glenn's legs. His proximity isn't helping at all.

“So...d'you want me to take care of it.” His voice sounds almost shy, and that makes any worry Glenn has melt. “I done it before, so it ain't like it wouldn't be any good.”

“Done what before exactly?”

“Stuff.” Daryl gives him a small smile that could almost be called coy. “Things.” 

“With guys?” 

“Yeah.” 

Glenn is shocked. It's incredible what kinds of secrets people can have. 

“Well, if you wanna...I won't say no. You have good hands.” Glenn has never been good at compliments. The words always get tripped up in his brain and his mouth when he's around attractive people. 

The older man's hands are on him now, petting and grasping at him through his pants. Good hands indeed. Glenn's toes curl, this time involuntarily. He has to close his eyes, his nerves killing him and making it hard to focus. He hears the zipper being pulled, feels the fresh air on his cock, Daryl's fingers running up and down it.

“Nice.” It's the last word Glenn hears before he feels Daryl's mouth. His eyes fly open, and he can't hold back the undignified noises that come out of his mouth when he sees the older man kiss the tip of the head before sliding the whole thing into his mouth. Glenn hold onto the edge of the cot at he feels his scratchy, pale mustache and goatee graze sensitive parts. Daryl is close to him now, holding his calves, squeezing and rubbing them as he goes down on Glenn. 

The younger man's feet stroke along Daryl's legs, and the older man sighs around the cock in his mouth. The vibrations from the noise are thrilling. Glenn tentatively runs a foot over the kneeling man's groin. This time Daryl moans, and he moves towards the touch. Glenn keeps it up, pressing his foot against Daryl's cock, teasing it to hardness through his pants. 

Daryl pulls away for just a second to push his own pants down. When the younger man catches a glimpse of what he's working with, he wonders if this is a one time deal, or if Daryl would be up for this again. 

“Do you want me to keep going with my feet?” Glenn asks, wiggling them at the older man.

“Yeah.” Again, a one word answer. Daryl is taciturn, but that's alright. His mouth has other talents, so what if eloquent speech isn't one of them? 

As Daryl takes him in his mouth, Glenn uses both of his feet to encircle his cock, trapping it between the arches. At first he tries to move them up and down, but he keeps bumping the kneeling man with his knees. That's no good, so Daryl thrusts his hips, making his cock slide between the soles of Glenn's feet. It's not a technique Glenn has ever tried, but it's working, and it's surprisingly hot. Daryl is sucking him with abandon now, his groans constant as he works himself towards coming.

It's a day full of surprises indeed, because when the orgasm jolts through Glenn, Daryl doesn't pull away. He swallows without protest, actually looks like he's enjoying the taste of Glenn's cum. The younger man strokes the back of his neck, too boggled to think of something to say. Daryl doesn't mind. He just keeps moving his hips. 

Glenn can tell when he gets close. His hands close onto his thighs tight enough to leave marks, and the throbs of his cock are communicated to Glenn's orgasm-addled brain through his feet. Then he reaches up, grabs Glenn by the back of his neck, and kisses him. It's sloppy. It's clumsy. Daryl sucks on Glenn's tongue and their teeth scrape against each other. The older man knocks the baseball cap off of the younger man's head, and holds onto the back of his head, his fingers sinking in soft black hair.

It's not a polite, gentle kiss. It's the kind of kiss you exchange drunk in back alleys behind sleazy bars. The younger man imagines all the practice Daryl must have gotten, because the older man is good. Apparently he is too, because Daryl starts to make whimpering sounds and his hips move faster. He cums all over Glenn's feet, spurts of cum reaching up to the younger man's ankles. 

“You're gonna have to clean them off again.” It comes off as accusatory rather than playful, and Glenn wishes he'd kept quiet. 

But Daryl nods, bends down, and licks them clean. His tongue is soft against the thin skin of Glenn's ankles, and ticklish on the soles of his feet. When he's done, he sits back up, and can't help but snort at Glenn's shocked expression. He tosses him the clean socks, a cocky grin on his face. 

“Told ya I was good.”


End file.
